


Finding Peace

by Rheynin



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheynin/pseuds/Rheynin
Summary: After Mary breaks things off permanently, a close friend comforts Arthur.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

We’d only been in camp a few minutes when he found the letter, snatching it off the table and ripping it open as quickly as he could, hope burning bright across his face. Shaking my head, I lit a cigarette and leaned against the wagon. Of course he’d heard from Mary. She seemed to be contacting him a lot lately, needing his help with this or that, getting under his skin and leaving him all turned around, not knowing which way was up. Why on earth she couldn’t just let him be was a mystery, one I was sure I’d never solve.  
As I took a deep drag, I watched him skim the pages, confusion and disbelief running across his face. When he’d finished the letter, he tipped the envelope over, a small glittering object falling into his hand. Slipping whatever it was into his bag, he turned, tossing the letter into the fire as he crossed to the edge of camp, settling on a stump and holding his head in his hands. Clearly, whatever Mary had said hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. Not that it surprised me.  
I dropped my cigarette, stomping it out and walking to where he sat. When I cleared my throat to let him know I was there, he looked up at me, eyes red and watery.  
“You okay, Arthur?”  
“Yeah. I’m fine, I guess. I don’t know.”  
I dropped to the ground to sit beside him, crossing my legs.  
“Mary again, huh?”  
He scoffed. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Reckon I won’t be worrying about that anymore.” His eyes darted over to me for a second, then back to the ground in front of him. “That’s all done now.”  
For a few minutes, we sat in silence. I wanted to tell him I’d heard it before, that she’d probably have him chasing after her again in no time, but something about the way he looked stopped me. He seemed dead certain. It may have been because of the way everything else was falling apart, leaving us all rattled, but somehow, I didn’t think so.   
“You wanna talk about it?”  
I shifted to squat in front of him, leaning an arm on his knee to balance myself. When his eyes met mine, I saw the faint tracks of tears on his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away, dismissing himself as an old fool.  
“She ain’t gonna bother me no more, asking for help. Said it was clear I’d never change, there weren’t no point in trying anymore.”  
He reached into his satchel, searching for a minute before bringing an item up and holding it in front of me. It was a gold ring, with several small stones. He rolled it between his fingers, looking through it for a second before grabbing my hand and dropping it in my palm.   
“Her engagement ring. Despite everything that happened between us, she kept it, all these long years. Until now.”  
My heart was breaking for him, tears heavy at the corners of my eyes. Whatever I felt about her personally, I knew she’d meant a great deal to him. She’d been his first, and maybe his only love. Everywhere we ended up, he always made sure she had a way to get in touch with him, and when she needed his help, he was there. Besides the gang, she was the only thing steady in his life, the only thing he’d cared about. Now the gang was uncertain, in tatters, and she’d deserted him as well.   
Without thinking about it, I ran my hand over his arm, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze.   
“You know, last time I saw her, she asked me to run away with her. Just go, leave everything behind and make a new life. And I was gonna do it. Like a goddamn fool, I was going to. Everything’s going to shit here, figured I didn’t have nothing to lose.” I gave him a sad smile as he swallowed thickly. “Course, that was before the damn shipwreck. Weren’t my fault I couldn’t meet her, but I guess she didn’t know that.”  
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, trying to give him some kind of comfort, though I expected him to turn away and tell me not to fuss. Instead, he leaned into me, letting me hug him, and sighed.  
“Only person in my life that ever really gave a damn about me, and now she’s gone. And no damn wonder. Look at me. Look at who I am. Nothing. Just a goddamn outlaw, running on borrowed time.”  
“Everyone’s on borrowed time, Arthur. Any one of us, anyone at all, could wind up dead tomorrow. A man in a happy marriage might find his wife’s been cheating on him, hell, a child could go home to find she’s got no parents. There ain’t nothing out there that owes anybody a damn thing.” I leaned down to catch his eyes. “But I can tell you one thing for damn sure. She ain’t the only person to care about you.”  
I stood up, pushing the ring back in his palm and walking to my bedroll. Maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said, maybe the timing was all wrong. I hoped I’d been vague enough that it wouldn’t matter, but I just couldn’t stand to have him thinking he didn’t matter to anyone. He mattered to me. He had for years, since just after I’d joined up. I knew he loved Mary, I knew I never stood a chance, but I still cared. Nothing would change that, not Mary, or Dutch, or all the goddamn Pinkertons in the world.  
I kept my eye on him as I lay there, worried. I’d seen him get dark before, wild and hell bent on self destruction. Usually a few days drunk and a few bar fights pulled him right out of it, and he’d be a bruised, sore headed version of his former self. Maybe if he was real sad, he’d take off alone for a few days, or me or Charles would take him out wandering, saying nothing. But I’d never seen him look so broken before. Granted, I hadn’t been there when Mary broke off their engagement, but from what I’d heard, she’d let him know then that she didn’t really want to, that she still loved him, but she was being forced to end it. This time, there was none of that. It was her, all her, and he had no hope of things changing.  
As he retired to his tent that night, well after everyone else had already gone to bed, he kept looking over at me. Sometimes he’d have this confused look on his face, but if I smiled or raised an eyebrow at him, he just turned away, busying himself with washing up or changing. He wouldn’t even nod. When he finally settled on his cot, I’d gotten myself worked into a frenzy of worry.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, the first thing I did was head to see Arthur. I hadn’t slept well for worrying about him, tempted more than once to check on him during the night, but I didn’t want him to accuse me of being a mother hen. I found him by the fire, drinking his morning coffee. As I poured myself a cup, I tried to watch him out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t want to be too obvious, which backfired spectacularly as I poured boiling hot coffee across my hand, sending both my cup and the pot flying.  
Arthur was on me in a minute, my hand enfolded in his as he blew the rest of the coffee off. He patted my skin dry, then carefully examined it. Already it was bright red, slightly swollen. Without a word, he took a clean handkerchief and dipped in the water basin nearby, then wrapped it around my hand. Putting his hand at the small of my back, he lead me around the hill and down the steep embankment to the stream nearby.  
I stuck my hand in the cool flow, sighing with relief. I hadn’t realized how much it hurt until then, and I let it sit there, enjoying the break, while Arthur stood on the bank beside me, brows furrowed. Finally, he crouched beside me, pulling my hand into his again, looking at it closely.  
“This ain’t too bad, but it’s gonna hurt.” He was engrossed in his examination, or at least pretending to be, not even bothering to look up. “How the hell did you manage this, anyway?”  
I scoffed. “Cause I’m a fucking idiot.”  
He looked at me then, blue eyes inches from mine. When did he get that close?  
“I’m serious.”  
I sighed. “I was busy watching you, dumbass. After yesterday, I was worried about you. But I know you. ‘Oh, ain’t no need to bother about me, Miss Isabeau. I’ll be just fine. Ain’t nothing but an idiot anyway, I deserve all the pain I get, nobody loves me, nobody cares, I’m old and ugly and worthless.’ You piss me off with that. So I was trying to keep an eye on you without you knowing. And as you can see,” I nodded to my injured hand, “that worked out great.”  
He let out a little huff of laughter, running his fingers along the palm of my hand. “Ain’t sure if I should be grateful you was looking out for me or mad at that impression you just did.” The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, making mine turn up in a wry smirk.  
“Either way it was worth it, seeing that bit of a smile.”  
That blossomed the twitch into his usual half smile, making me outright grin. His eyes were back on my hand, still resting gently in his. His fingers had traced across my palm and down to my wrist, where he was tenderly stroking my pulse point. It was a gesture of intimacy that had my heart racing, knowing how I felt about him, even if I knew he couldn’t return those feelings.  
He cleared his throat, his voice quiet against the sound of the wind and water.   
“Last night . . . .” His voice caught in his throat. He took a deep breath, then tried again. “Last night, you said something. Got me thinking, and I can’t figure it out. I ain’t sure if I heard you wrong, or I got something mixed up, or what.” He raised his eyes to meet mine for a moment, almost pleading, then his gaze dropped back to his hands, now wrapped around my injured one. “You said Mary weren’t the only one who cared about me?”  
“Yeah.” My voice was barely above a whisper, the warmth of his hands making me suddenly shy. “That’s what I said, alright.”  
“Who . . .uh, what’d you mean by that?”  
Both of us sat in silence, trying hard to not make things awkward. While he fiddled with his wet handkerchief, wrapping it around my burn, I chewed on my lip. Did I tell him the truth? Tell him I’d been pining for him for years, wishing in the dark, lonely corners of my heart that he loved me instead of Mary? Play it off like just a concerned friend? Or did I just outright lie, say that I didn’t mean anyone specifically, just that he had friends, people who cared about him and depended on him, let him scoff at the idea and leave feeling no different than he did before?  
I couldn’t do that.  
“I mean . . . well . . . I care about you, Arthur. Me.”  
He jerked his head up, like the news startled him, like he couldn’t imagine that would be what I said. Then his face twisted, almost like he was pained.  
“You?”  
Oh, god, if he laughed at me, I didn’t think I could stand it. I tried to pull my hands back, to turn and leave, but he squeezed my hand and held me there, in front of him.  
“Arthur, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said anything-“  
“Hey, take it easy.” His voice was as gentle as his hands, which were still holding mine. “I don’t mean nothing. I just, well, I guess I want to be sure I know exactly how you mean that.” He looked into my eyes as I felt a blush growing on my cheeks. Suddenly I wished I were elsewhere, my usual brash nature betraying me here, when I needed it most. “So, uh, exactly how do you mean it?”  
“I don’t want to lose you. You’re . . . my friend.”  
“Just your friend?”  
I shook my head. “I know I shouldn’t. I know how you felt about- how you feel about Mary, and I know that don’t extend to me. But I do care about you. More than I should, but I do.”  
He sighed, leaning back and letting go of my hands.  
“I’m sorry. I know I have terrible timing, and I should keep my mouth shut. But I couldn’t let you think she was the only person who could ever love you. She’s not.”  
He gave me a sad smile, shaking his head. “You might be as big a fool as me, wanting the wrong person, someone who ain’t the best for you. But I’m glad you told me.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. “I ain’t mad, and I don’t hate you. I still think of you as a friend. A real good friend. But I . . . well, I guess I need time to think about this. It’s a lot to happen at once. Just give me a little time, okay?”  
I nodded, watching him as he walked away. Both my hand and heart were left aching, and I didn’t know what was going on in his head, or what the future would hold. If it had been in my nature, or if I hadn’t had to worry about being attacked by inbred rednecks, I might’ve cried. Instead, I steeled myself for the worst and headed back to camp alone.  
We didn’t talk for a few days afterwards, nearly a week. He’d been busy helping Charles with some things, while I’d had my hands full trying to keep Sadie from getting killed in her seemingly endless quest for revenge against the O’Driscolls. The few times we’d been in camp at the same time, either I was running around trying to keep everyone calm and comforted the best I could, or he was tangled up in listening to one of Dutch’s grand schemes. It seemed anymore like it was always one more score, one distraction, and we’d be living the high life somewhere, according to him. All that ever happened was we got deeper in trouble, and now we were so deep it was breathing down our necks. Some days I thought I could feel the hangman’s rope, holding me in place, and nearly everyone else felt the same. Only Dutch and Micah seemed to maintain an unbridled optimism of the situation, and I strongly suspected that Dutch’s was just so he didn’t look weak or out of control. He swore everything was a part of his plan, but I figured nobody on earth could plan quite that far ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

It was just after Arthur came back from helping with some secret job he’d been asked about while he was out to Wapiti with Charles that we finally got to talk again. I was out on the edge of camp, watching the sun rise after another night full of bloodshed, dirty, and tired, and worried. I’d hoped Sadie would be satisfied after finally seeing Colm hang, especially after all the trouble she caused, but it seemed like the more killing she did, the more death she craved. What was she gonna do when they were all done with? Would she let it rest, find peace in her revenge? Or would she end up a shell, lost and without purpose? Somewhere, somehow, it had to stop. Somebody had to make it out alive, and she had less time in than the rest of us.  
I was roused from my thoughts by the gentle rhythm of hoof beats, then Arthur’s answer to Bill’s call. His footsteps crunched across the dry earth towards me, and when I looked up, there he was in front of me, thumbs hooked over his belt.   
“Ride with me?”  
I nodded, and he reached to pull me up. We walked to the horses in silence, and judging by the frown he wore, something heavy was on his mind. The thought made me a little uneasy. He mounted before I did, then sat waiting. On the way out, I saw Charles give him a nod, which he returned, then set off at an easy trot.   
We rode nearly all day, with him never looking at me and barely speaking. I was used to his stoic silence, but usually it was a comfortable quiet, easy and pleasant. This was a loaded stillness, like the cocking of a pistol. I didn’t dare disturb it, and by the time we stopped, my nerves were in knots. Still, he said almost nothing as he set up camp, only asking me to pass what he needed or take care of some task.  
He’d chosen an open field, full of lavender. Beautiful, though I could barely take it in. As he settled by the fire, I pretended to be looking for something in my saddlebag, until finally he called out to me.  
“If you ain’t found what you’re looking for yet, it probably ain’t in there.”  
I turned to see him smirk at me, then gesture for me to sit beside him. Once I’d settled, he turned and gave me a smile, then looked back to where the sun was dipping below the horizon.  
“I always liked this place.” His eyes were distant, still focused on the horizon. “Prettiest place I’ve ever seen. Nice place to watch the sunset.”  
“It is.”  
“How‘s your hand?”  
“Better. Still a little sore, peeling a bit. But I think I’ll live. Maybe.”  
He chuckled a little. “Well, that’s good. I’d hate to have to put you down.”  
As I laughed, he cut his eyes at me, smiling, then scooted a little closer. Suddenly, the side of his boot became very interesting, and I knew he was about to get to the point of this trip.  
“I been thinking . . .”  
“Thought I smelled smoke.”  
He pushed his shoulder against mine, making me laugh again. When he looked at me, his eyes were soft and serious.  
“I wanted to talk to you, about what you said the other day. After I got that letter. Did you . . . uh, well . . . “ His eyes went back down to his boot, palm running over his thigh. “Did you mean it? I mean, really mean it?”  
“Of course I did.”  
He looked over to me. “It ain’t ‘of course’ to me. You know where I been, what I been through. Hell, what we’re all going through right now. Life’s a mess, and I wanna know that if I think I might find something that makes me happy, it ain’t some kinda joke.”  
“You know damn well I wouldn’t do that.”  
“Fair enough. It’s just . . .” A sigh fell from his lips. “Everything’s so strange right now. I feel like it ain’t the world I knew, or at least the one I thought I knew. I lost everything I ever had, everything I thought I could depend on.” He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “And this. This is . . . I don’t know.”  
“I didn’t tell you expecting you to feel the same.”  
“I ain’t saying I don’t.” He was silent again, focused on the fire. After a minute, he spoke in a quiet voice. “How long?”  
“Most of the time I’ve known you. Years.”  
“Why ain’t you told me before?”  
“Mary.”  
“That all?”  
“You loved her. You still love her. No matter how she treated you, used you, insulted you, your life. Even when you knew what she did was wrong. You still love her. I wouldn’t have told you at all, if you hadn’t said she was the only person who ever cared for you. You needed to know that wasn’t true.”  
“I reckon I know, even if it’s hard to believe. And I reckon I do still love her, and I probably always will. But the part of me that loves her, it’s not who I am now, and the part of her I love, I don’t think it’s real. Maybe it never was.” He sighed heavily, looking to the emerging stars. “I don’t know how to do this.”  
“What?”  
“This. Any of it.” He paused, still looking up. Then his eyes turned to me. “Remember when Dutch brought you in? All fight and fire, kicking and screaming and covered in blood.”  
“Not mine, though.”  
“No. Definitely not.” A soft chuckle shook his shoulders. “Five O’Driscolls when he found you, two already dead, took down with a pocket knife. He shot the rest, and you still screamed at him when he tried to take you with him.”  
“Five strange men just attacked me! Then another one comes charging up on a white horse, acting like he thinks he’s a knight coming in to save me. He grabbed me!”  
“Yeah, and you knocked him off the Count four times. Nearly ran away with him, too, ‘cept he won’t let nobody but Dutch ride him.”  
“Bastard.”  
His laughter echoed in the night. “Yeah. Well, I’m the one that had to deal with you once he got you home.”  
“Wasn’t my fault you were the only one big and strong enough to hold me still. I’m still mad you threw me in the lake.”  
“I’m still mad you took me with you!”  
We sat, quietly smiling at the memory of me soaking wet in the lake, holding onto him for all I was worth. I’d nearly choked him, until he started laughing at me, telling me I looked “like a goddamn wet hen”. Then we started trading insults, each getting more ridiculous, until we were both falling over with laughter.  
“You know, I always thought falling for somebody was something you knew about, like wading slowly into deep water.” He was drawing in the dirt at his feet, mindless patterns as he spoke. “Or else it was like jumping in feet first. Point is, it’s something you’re aware of, even if you don’t want it.”  
He tossed the stick into the fire, turning his body towards mine. “You’re a damn good thief, you know that?”  
“Why’d you say that?”  
“Cause you somehow managed to steal my heart a little piece at a time, and I didn’t even know it. Not til now.”  
My heart thumped in my chest as his blue eyes turned to me.   
“That first night, when you showed up? That was the first piece right there. You made me laugh, you fought with me, and all of it was so easy. I didn’t even have to think about it. Didn’t worry about saying the wrong thing, putting my hands the wrong place, or nothing. And the fool that I was, that I am, I couldn’t see it.”  
“I knew that anybody who was strong enough to pick me up and make me do something I didn’t want, then manage to get me laughing about it, was someone I wanted to keep around.”  
A grin split his face as he leaned towards me, resting his cheek against my forehead. His hand found the small of my back, pulling me into a brief half hug.   
“You know, I haven’t got a clue how I’m supposed to do this. It’s been so long-“  
“Nothing has to change. Not unless you want it to. All you need to do is keep being you, and know that I couldn’t give a shit about boundaries. There ain’t no games between us. Never has been.”  
He smiled, twining his arm around my waist and pulling me close. After a few seconds, he let me go, shaking his head.  
“Sorry. It just feels kinda strange.”  
“I told you, nothing has to change. Don’t push yourself.”  
I stood up, moving to my bedroll to lay down. Arthur stayed up for a while, watching me as I settled. When my eyes had nearly closed, I heard him rustling around, readying himself for bed. He’d placed his bedroll where his head was against mine, and just as I fell asleep, I felt the scratch of his stubble against my forehead, his warm, dry lips on my skin.  
“G’night.”  
“Mmm. G’night Arthur.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Arthur singing softly. After I searched a bit, I found him laying in a patch of lavender on his back, watching the sky. Wordlessly, I laid beside him. The sky was beautiful, clear blue, with just the hint of a cloud rolling by from time to time. It was-  
“Peaceful, huh? You know, it feels nice to pretend for a while that everything’s just fine, even though everything’s going straight to hell around us. Guess that’s why I ain’t in no hurry to get home. If you can even call it home, anymore.”  
“It’s got our friends. What’s left of our family. It’s home enough.”  
“True, I guess.” He took a deep breath, then let it out in a huff. “Guess I’m getting old. There was a time I’d run anywhere, everywhere, looking for a fight. I’d look forward to seeing the look on a man’s face when he realized I’d be the last thing he saw. Now, though . . . I just want peace. All this hate, this violence Dutch’s been courting, it just don’t make sense to me.”  
“Me neither. I don’t know what happened when you were gone, but he ain’t been the same since then. Nor has anybody else, but he’s- different than the rest of you. More certain of the wrong things, listening to the wrong people, quicker to use violence. And it seems like, anymore, the only person he cares survives is himself.”  
“You ain’t wrong there. It feels like betrayal, but . . . .”  
“You can’t betray somebody who’s already betrayed you. And, like it or not, that’s what’s happened. What did he and Hosea always say? ‘We’re family. Family sticks together, keeps everyone safe.’ But he’s putting everyone at risk, not keeping them safe. For what? Money?”  
“Well, we need money to live, to provide.”  
“Yeah, but how much money have you brought in? Just you?”  
“Well, the gang’s share just from robbing the Valentine bank was about ten thousand. And that’s just one job.”  
“Right. I mean, I got nearly that much on my own, and I bet you do too. Probably near everyone does. So the gang’s share has to be at least three or four times that, and even if it wasn’t, you really think most everyone wouldn’t put a good bit of theirs in, if it meant finding somewhere and settling down? Barring Micah, of course.”  
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”  
“So why are we still robbing? Why aren’t we running, leaving? Going west, or north, or wherever?”  
“I honestly don’t know.”  
“All I’m saying is, if Dutch ain’t looking after us, maybe we should look after ourselves.”  
We settled back into quiet, trying to enjoy the last bits of peace we could, but I know my mind was racing. I’d finally said aloud what I’d been thinking for weeks, maybe months. Ever since Micah came along, it had seemed like Dutch listened to no one else, barely even Hosea. Now that Hosea was gone, there was no restraining him. I was afraid that if we didn’t look after ourselves, Dutch would lead us all into the fire, just to save his own skin. Arthur had already talked about trying to get John and his family out, along with Tilly and Mary-Beth. I didn’t see why we shouldn’t free ourselves, too.  
In the midst of my whirlwind thoughts, I felt something brush against my fingers. It was soft, barely even registering at first, until it became more insistent, searching, and then I felt Arthur’s palm beneath mine. I gave it a gentle squeeze, then looked over to see him smiling at me. He squeezed back, and slipped his fingers between mine. His hand was so big compared to mine, his fingers so much thicker, I felt a stretch between my knuckles, but in a pleasant way. It was nice to have that bit of closeness, and to know it was what he wanted.  
“Arthur? Do you think we’re gonna make it out of all this?”  
“I don’t know. There was a time I’d have said I didn’t care. If our time was over, let it be over, and let me be gunned down like the lowlife I am. But now . . . .”  
“I know.”

When we got back to camp, Dutch called Arthur over to talk to him about some new plan “to cause a diversion”, while I spoke to Charles about some of the things he and Arthur had been up to at Wapiti. I let him know I’d wanted to help, if I could do anything, and he thanked me, going over a few things he could use help with. By the time we were through, Arthur was done with Dutch, waiting by his tent to talk to me.  
“Strauss asked me to collect on the last couple of outstanding debts we got.”  
“You gonna?”  
“I don’t think I got a choice. But I want you to come with me. You always been real clever, and if there’s something that can be done, I know you’ll think of it.”  
“When do we go?”  
“I can probably push it off a few days, give us some time to look into it, but no more than that.”  
“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and Charles told me what’s going on up at Wapiti. I’m helping, and don’t you complain about it.”  
He chuckled, giving me a wry smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
Over the course of the next few days, Arthur and I spent time together, discussing the possibilities of getting anyone who wanted to leave out of the gang. We knew there were some who wouldn’t leave, no matter what. They had their reasons, and we wouldn’t waste our time trying to convince them. But John, Abigail, and Jack? Tilly and Mary-Beth? We knew they wanted a better life, and maybe a couple of others. Charles did, too, but he felt the same way we did- that getting the most innocent, those with the most to lose, came first. We knew what we had done, what we were doing, and we would lay ourselves down if it meant a chance for the others.  
The thing was, just because we were willing, didn’t mean we were going to just let it happen. We knew we needed a plan, a way we could get the others out, and not give ourselves up in the process. A last ditch escape plan, one that would let us get away once we’d taken care of the others, and keep anybody who stayed from chasing after us.   
“I just don’t know how that could work.” Charles said as we talked late one afternoon in the cabin we’d taken to using for our discussions. “How are you gonna be able to make sure they don’t chase you down? Either they’d have to be sure you weren’t in on it-“  
“Which ain’t likely, given the way Micah’s got Dutch thinking I’ve already betrayed him.”  
“Right. Or you’d have to be dead.”  
“You don’t have to actually be dead, though. They’d just need to think you are.” I pointed out.   
They both looked at me like I was crazy.  
“What? You mean you fellas have never once considered faking your death to get away?”  
“No?” They answered simultaneously.  
“You’re an unimaginative lot. You really think I was always Isabeau Black? Hell, I’ve been at least five different people. Though Isabeau is closest to my real name, which I will not be sharing.”  
“Uh, okay? You got any other secrets you need to tell me?”  
“Not at present, Arthur Morgan, but maybe later on.” I said with a wink. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing you won’t like.”  
I watched his cheeks flush crimson as Charles laughed, then excused himself to head back, telling us he wanted to do a bit of hunting. I was about to follow him out, when I felt Arthur’s hand on my arm. As I turned, he slid it downward, until he had my hand in his. He pulled me towards him, then gently touched the side of my face.  
“I still have no idea how to do this.”  
Before I could ask him what he meant, he’d leaned down, softly touching his lips to mine. I felt his hand against my hip, moving around my waist to pull me close. I wouldn’t have called it a passionate kiss, if I’d seen it from the outside. Neither of our lips so much as parted, and we didn’t move much or press hard. Still, when he pulled away, I found myself feeling dizzy, breathless with the intensity of it. After a few moments, I finally found my voice.  
“I think you did just fine,” I breathed against his lips. “But if you wanna try again, I sure won’t stop you.”  
He laughed, pressing his chin to my forehead. “Maybe later on.”  
We rode back to camp slightly giddy, even if our great plan still eluded us. Our mood was dashed when Micah came up, snarling at us and asking us where we’d been. I felt Arthur’s protective hand at my waist, and judging by the way Micah’s eyes darted down, it didn’t go unnoticed, no matter how quickly he pulled it back. As we headed to get food, I heard Arthur curse under his breath, and I apologized.  
“The hell are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
“I just don’t want you stressed on my account.”  
He smiled at me, and I felt his knuckles rubbing against the side of my knee in a subtle sign of affection. He may have thought he was out of practice, but he still had a way of things that made my heart flutter. Especially when I remembered the feeling of his lips against mine earlier that day. I’d take those little gestures over big things any day.


	5. Chapter 5

As night fell, and everyone gathered into their little groups, Arthur and I wandered to the edge of camp. He lead me to the large log we used as a makeshift bench, gesturing for me to sit down, and he stepped over it and sat beside me. Right beside me. His hip and thigh were flush against mine, our shoulders pressed together. He hadn’t even settled good before his hand was wrapped around mine, bringing it to his lips. I smiled, laying my head against his shoulder, and felt him nuzzle the top of my head.   
I don’t know how long we sat there, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other. Long enough that the moon was high in the sky, and nearly everyone else had gone to bed. Arthur kept his hand in mine as we returned to camp, and kissed my temple gently before saying goodnight. For a minute, he hesitated, like there was something else he wanted to say or do, but in the end he just sighed, telling me goodnight again, and went to bed.  
As I laid down, I noticed that Micah was deep in conversation with his two “friends” who’d come around recently. They made me even more uncomfortable than Micah did, and I’d have said that wasn’t possible. Everything about all three of them just screamed “snake” to me. It didn’t help that, at the moment, they were huddled close around Micah, whispering. On top of that, Micah’s eyes seemed to be locked on me, even as he talked. Eventually, I rolled over, trying to go to sleep despite the unease in the pit of my stomach.  
I was more than happy to leave with Arthur the next morning, going ahead to deal with Strauss’ collections. Neither of us wanted to, of course, but we realized it was better to get it over with. We had more than enough money to pay off the debts, if it came to that. Neither of us wanted to leave much in camp anymore, with Micah’s new friends around. We also had a few days away from camp, since the debts were just far enough away to require it, so we’d have time to discuss the possibility of faking our deaths.   
I, of course, had no problem with the idea of it, having been through it all before, but I also knew it wasn’t likely that they’d come after me. I’d always managed to show just enough competence in front of Dutch that he’d trust me, but never enough that he’d rely on me or be threatened. Of course, the fact that he had a tendency to dismiss women pretty quickly as little more than decoration helped. Even Sadie was left behind most of the time, and she was easily the most talented and dangerous of us all, except maybe Arthur.   
As we rode to find the first debtor, a Mr. Weathers, I did my best to convince him that pretending to be dead would be his best option. No matter how Dutch felt about him, Micah wasn’t likely to just let him go. He was threatened by Arthur in a way I couldn’t explain.  
“Besides, Arthur, what about the Pinkertons? Even if no one in the gang chased you down, you think they’re gonna leave you alone? The ‘Second in Command’? Even if it’s not true anymore, you’re too valuable.”  
“Yeah, but I’m still not sure. I mean, if we get everyone out, but I’m dead, I can’t see ‘em, can I?”  
“You really think you’ll be able to see ‘em much anyway? Without drawing attention to either of you? If you get seen on the street alone, someone might think you kinda look like that guy who was involved with that gang. If you’re supposed to be dead, it’s not likely to go further than that. Just a resemblance. But if they see you, who kinda looks like that one guy, and then that guy, who looks like another guy who was in that gang. . . .”  
“I know, I know. It just seems so . . . final.”  
“It ain’t gotta be. I mean, Arthur Morgan might be dead, but maybe in a few years, some other guy who looks an awful lot like him will visit one of his old friends. Once things have died down.” I shook my head. “Ain’t it worth it if everyone’s safe?”  
“I suppose so.”  
We stopped, dismounting and leading our horses off the road as we approached the area we’d heard Weathers was supposed to be. I turned to him, placing my hand on his arm.  
“Trust me, I know it’s hard. I’ve got people I miss too.”  
He nodded, and we walked on, looking for signs Weathers might be nearby. Soon, we sighted a wagon in the distance, apparently with a broken wheel.  
“Reckon that might be our man.”  
I nodded, then took out my binoculars to scan the area.   
“Shit.” I handed Arthur the binoculars. “What do you see in the distance there?”  
“Goddamn military. Shit. It’s what we get for lending to deserters.”  
“That ain’t the worst. Look down there.”  
A few feet below us, hidden among some rocks, was a young woman who looked to be pregnant. She had long, dark hair that was pulled into braids, and dark skin. Arthur sighed.  
“That would explain the desertion. And the military chase.”  
“And the fact that we can’t walk away.” I gave him a pointed look, and he nodded.  
“You watch the girl. I’ll help him.”  
I nodded, then slipped down towards the woman. Though she was startled when she first saw me, I gestured to the uniformed men moving towards Weathers, and she settled in behind me. Though I was slightly nervous at the possibility of Arthur having to take on that many men at once, even with help, I knew it was best if I stayed where I was. Someone had to protect the woman and her unborn child, and get her out if the worst happened. The army men weren’t exactly known for their kind treatment of women, especially those they deemed to be “consorts of the enemy”. Besides, I knew he’d been up against worse and come through.   
Come through he did, the two of them leaving none alive. Weathers was reunited with the woman who turned out to be his wife, and the two were most grateful for our help. Unfortunately, during the altercation, their wagon and most of their supplies were destroyed, which was where the bulk of the borrowed money had gone. Apparently, they were planning to settle far north, deep in the woods, to avoid the punishment for his desertion.  
Arthur and I looked at each other, both knowing there was no way we could let them go as they were. They’d never make it without proper supplies, and all they had left was a locket, which we were offered as payment. Of course we refused. I quickly removed my belongings from my horse, then handed them the reigns, and Arthur pulled out a bit of cash and pressed it into the woman’s hand. They thanked us profusely, and we watched until they were out of sight. Then Arthur turned to me, pulling me into his arms. He stroked my hair, then kissed me on the forehead.  
“That was a fine thing you did, giving them your horse.”  
“They needed it more. I can always get another. Besides, you’re the one that kept the army off him. Gave ‘em cash, too. And here I thought we was supposed to be collecting, not doing charity work.”  
I smirked at him, and he leaned to kiss me. This time, my hands quickly found their way to the back of his head, tangling in his hair and pulling him hard against my mouth. His hands wrapped around my hips as his tongue brushed across my bottom lip, then slipped into my mouth. God, he tasted good. Smoke and salt, with the warm musk of his skin filling my nostrils, his stubble rough against my chin. I’d have kissed him forever, if it were possible.   
When he pulled away, he breathed out heavily, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.  
“Damn.”  
“I could say the same, Mr Morgan. You’ve got a hell of a sweet mouth.”  
He chuckled, a minor flush tinting his cheeks and chest, though I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or arousal. He took my hands in his, pulling them up to kiss my knuckles again and again, then took my face in his hands. After giving me another, more chaste kiss, he asked me if I’d go somewhere with him. I decided to not point out the obvious, which was that, since I’d given up my horse, I didn’t really have a choice, and agreed.  
“There’s a fella I met recently, lives up around here. I think you’d like him, and I’ve been meaning to go see him again anyway.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was late afternoon by the time we reached the little pond called O’Creigh’s Run, and Arthur headed directly to the rough little cabin beside it. There was an oddly familiar air about it, though I couldn’t quite place why. Arthur patted the giant gold horse out front with a smile on his face, and we walked to the porch. I stood slightly behind him as he knocked, just far enough back to be able to see who opened the door. When I heard a vaguely familiar voice from inside, I thought for sure my mind had to be playing tricks on me. There was no possible way than chance would’ve lead me back into his life. Not like this.   
Then the door was pulled open. A face I knew well stared out at me, his eyes growing as wide as I knew mine must have been. Then a broad grin spread across my face as he yelled out.  
“Piggy! Is that you? Is that really you out there? Holy hell, it’s been years.”  
“It sure has, ain’t it?”  
He fairly pushed past a very confused Arthur to pull me into a tight hug that I happily returned. After a few comments about how healthy he looked, how pretty I was, and the strangeness of the world, he turned to Arthur, still astounded and confused.  
“Arthur Morgan! Where the hell did you dig up my niece?”  
This time it was Arthur’s eyes that got wide. “Niece?!?!?”  
“Sure as shit is, ain’t that right, Piggy?”  
I threw my arm around his waist. “Yes sir, Uncle Ham. Since I was born. Unless we both was lied to!”  
Uncle Hamish laughed like crazy, escorting both of us into the cabin. He tried to get me to take one of the two chairs, but I refused, plopping on the floor instead. Once we were all seated, Hamish insisted we tell him how we met, and how we ended up at his door. Of course Arthur had to retell the story of Dutch bringing me home, trying to leave out the most illegal bits. I, on the other hand, had no problem supplying them, though I tried to focus only on my part. Tale after tale poured out as I let my uncle hear the basics of where I’d been, some that even Arthur hadn’t known of. We talked until late in the night, and soon I found myself getting sleepy, my head leaning against Arthur’s thigh. He started stroking my hair, and soon I was yawning.  
Hamish insisted we stay the night, and we agreed, though I refused to let him give me the bed. Arthur said that he and I would be fine on the floor, we were used to sleeping anywhere, and I left to get the bedrolls. They must have thought I wouldn’t be able to hear, because once I’d stepped outside, I heard Uncle Hamish’s low voice.  
“So Arthur. Do you mind if I ask you something?”  
“No, sir. Go right ahead.”  
“You and Piggy . . . ?”  
I could just picture Arthur going red at the suggestion, desperate for some kind of escape, and I grabbed the bedding as quickly as I could. I intended to rush back and interrupt, saving him from having to admit something that maybe he wasn’t ready for, but to my surprise, I heard him answer pretty quickly.  
“Yes sir. Not too long, though.”  
“She’s a good girl. Well, woman.”  
“Yes sir, that she is. I just hope I can make her as happy as she makes me.”  
I stepped in, bedding in my arms, and leaned against the doorway.  
“You fellas talking about me?”  
Arthur jumped up to take the bedrolls from me, Hamish laughing behind him. He waved us goodnight, then headed to his bed, while Arthur set up our makeshift bed. He’d put the bedrolls side by side, touching, then laid down on his back. As I settled beside him, he reached his arm out, pulling me down against his chest. There were a few precious moments of silence. Then . . . .  
“Piggy, huh?”  
He chuckled, and I gently slapped his chest.  
“Shut up.” Then I sighed. “Look, my real name is Ingeborg. My family tended to shorten it to Iggy. Because kids can be downright mean, that meant I got called ‘piggy Iggy’. When Uncle Hamish found out, he decided he’d call himself my ‘Uncle Ham’, so I didn’t feel so bad.”  
“Wait . . . Ingeborg?”  
“Just shut up, Arthur.”  
He chuckled softly, then leaned in for a goodnight kiss. I settled comfortably against him, sighing as he started stroking my hair again. It felt good to be beside him, to have my favorite uncle nearby. It almost felt like the past few years of trouble were cleaned away, even if it wasn’t a genuine possibility.  
We woke early, his arms still around me, and set out to collect from Mr Londonderry in Annesburg. Unfortunately, we were told to speak to his supervisor, who was deep in a mine shaft. Since town was so small, and there seemed to be little chance of real trouble, Arthur insisted that I go off to replace my horse while he saw the man and found out exactly where Mr Londonderry was. Then we’d meet just outside the post office.  
Though it took me quite some time to get to the stables and select a new horse, Arthur was still nowhere to be found when I got back. After waiting around for over an hour, I decided to have a bath and do some shopping, figuring he could find me easy enough. I was filthy after all the climbing around and riding, and I wanted some new clothes, especially something nice to sleep in. Sleeping in my clothes or underthings was fine, most of the time, but seeing my uncle had put me in mind of the times when I was younger and had actual nightclothes.  
I picked up some new shirts, bloomers, a chemise, and a skirt that was good for any weather, since the single skirt I owned was getting worn and faded. Mostly I wore pants, since it was easier to move in them, but sometimes a skirt was a nice change, or I needed to look more like a “proper woman”. I also got some nice, simple sleeping combinations in white cotton. They were short sleeved, with bloomer style bottoms, and very little lace. Perfect for me.  
After I had my bath, I popped into the saloon to see if Arthur was there, but no luck, so I headed out to the post office again. The sky was beginning to get dark, and I was worried that he’d been gone far too long for a simple collection job. I’d just about decided to hunt him down when I saw him coming up the street. He was covered in black dust, stomping, and cursing a blue streak. By the time he got to me, I’d already gathered something had gone wrong.  
“Goddamn small town idiots, trying to make a damn fool of me. Sent me chasing down a goddamn filthy mine, hunting out some supervisor who can’t hardly be found, just to tell me the man’s dead. Now I gotta go see his goddamn widow, and she don’t even live nearby!”  
I knew he was pissed, and he had every right to be. We’d wasted an entire day for no good reason, after all. But seeing him covered in filth, cursing a dead man’s employer just struck me as funny. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing. Instead, I carefully took his hand in mine and started drawing him down the street.  
“It’s been a rough day, snd you’re filthy. Come on.”  
“Where we going?”  
“We’re gonna get you a bath, and I’ll rent us a room. Then you’re gonna get a decent night’s sleep. We can take care of everything else in the morning.”


	7. Chapter 7

The man behind the counter greeted me cheerfully, recognizing me from earlier in the afternoon. I ordered Arthur a bath, pushing him through the doors, and then got the key and headed to the room. While I waited, I looked at my new clothes again, deciding that I’d wear one of the shirts the next day. Then I draped my new nightclothes over the privacy screen and waited on the bed for Arthur. He came in with his hair still damp, pants pulled over his union suit, snd smiled when he saw me on the bed.  
“You’re not sleeping fully dressed tonight. I want you to relax, okay? So down to the union suit.”  
“Yes ma’am. And what, may I ask, will you be wearing?”  
“You’ll see later. Strip! And sit on the edge of the bed.”  
He did as I asked him to, and I got on my knees behind him, then rubbed my hands together. As soon as I started squeezing his shoulders, he groaned loudly.  
“That good, or bad?”  
“Bit of both, I think. It hurts some, but it feels nice, too.”  
“Good. I told you, you’re gonna relax. Now let me work.”  
I worked my way across his shoulders, then moved to make long, firm strokes from his lower back to his neck. Occasionally, when I could tell he was really knotted up, I’d take a minute and work little circles against the tension until it loosened. Then it was back to the longer motions, until I reached his shoulders again. This time my moves were more gentle; soft, fluid motions against his skin and up his neck.  
I thought he’d moaned a lot when I massaged his back and shoulders, but it was nothing compared to the sounds he made as my fingers laced into his hair, rubbing circles against his scalp. His head dropped back, the tension visibly releasing as groans and soft grunts fell from his lips. If anyone had the room next to ours, I’m positive they thought we were having the best sex of our lives, especially when he started cursing and telling me how good it felt. When I finished, he collapsed back against my chest for a minute, as I laid my arms around him, kissing his cheek.  
“You got a magic touch there, you know that?”  
“Only for you.” I teased, then excused myself to change.  
When I stepped out, I heard him gasp. His eyes were wide, and entirely focused on me as I crossed the room to get on the bed. I’d pulled my hair back into a braid, and he pushed it behind my shoulder as he pulled me into a deep kiss.  
“Beautiful.”  
“Flatterer.”  
“Not one bit.”  
I smiled against his mouth, kissing him as he pulled me into his lap. There, I curled against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around me. Soon, he was tracing slow, lazy patterns across my back.   
“Feel better now?” I asked, burying my face in his neck.  
“Mmm. Much better.”  
“Good.”  
I pressed a kiss to his throat, rubbing my nose against his jawline and trailing my fingers against his collarbone. It felt wonderful to be so close to him, safe and relaxed. Knowing that I’d helped relieve some of his tension made me incredibly happy too. As I looked up at him, he sighed heavily.  
“Reckon we’d better get to sleep. Got to head out early.”  
“Wish we didn’t.”  
“Me too, sweetheart.”  
I removed myself from his lap, slipping into bed beside him. He darkened the room, and we just lay there, quiet. Soon I felt his hand slip into mine, giving it a squeeze. As he rubbed his thumb across my hand, he sighed again, then rolled to his side. His arm slid across my stomach, finding my hip and pulling me closer. I rolled to face him, our bodies flush against each other, and felt his fingers run the length of my spine. His breath was warm against my lips, it’s soft brush sending goosebumps across my skin, making him pull me closer.  
“Cold?”  
I shook my head. “No. Just happy.”  
He kissed my forehead, then my lips, and soon we were both asleep.  
I woke the next morning curled behind him, my arm around his waist. His body was warm against mine, and I snuggled closer, sliding my hand downward, until my fingers nudged against a bulge that was warm and firm. Slowly, I cupped my hand over it, giving it a gentle squeeze, and heard Arthur moan softly in his sleep. I pressed against him firmly and started rubbing him, the feeling of him beneath my fingers making heat flush my body. Before long, I was rewarded with a deep groan.  
“Shit, that feels good.”  
I pressed a bit harder, and he rolled to his back, his hips pushing against my hand. When I slipped it down between his legs and started massaging, I heard a sharp intake of breath.  
“God-fucking-dammit.”  
His breathing was coming in rapid huffs as he clenched his hands at his sides, doing his best to stay in control. Soon what had been little more than a bulge was a stiff tent at the front of his union suit. I wrapped my hand around it, pulling up in a slow stroke, and watched as a spot of wetness spread from his tip.   
Suddenly his hand gripped the back of my head, pulling me into a deep, hard kiss. His teeth caught my lip, and the next thing I knew I was on my back, his hips grinding frantically between my legs. He pulled my arms up above my head, holding them there with one hand while his other searched the front of my combinations. I swore with a groan as his hand gripped my breast, fingertips teasing my nipple.   
Then he stopped, propping himself on his elbow as I felt the shuddering of his breath against my throat. His hips were still, though still pressed hard against me, and when I moved mine, he brought his hand down to still them.  
“Everything okay, Arthur?”  
He sighed heavily, looking at me. “Not really, no.”  
“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”  
“No, it’s nothing like that, not at all.” He rolled back to his back, his heart still pounding, and pulled me to his chest. “It’s just, I know we got things that need taking care of. Makes it hard for me to focus.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
He cupped my face, making me look at him.  
“I told you, you didn’t do nothing wrong. I was enjoying it.” He breathed out heavily. “Really enjoying it. But, well, I guess. . . I guess I’d like to take my time with you. It’s been a long time since I really wanted to be with someone, and I don’t want it to be rushed. That’s all.” He laughed a little. “Guess I am getting old, huh?”  
“It’s not a problem. I think it’s real nice, actually, to know you want to be . . . thorough.”   
I leaned to kiss him, and felt his hand against my ass.  
“Sweetheart, I wanna be more than thorough. I’d like to make sure you ain’t walking right for at least a week.”  
“Sounds like a plan to me.” I laughed, kissing him and standing to get dressed. He followed suit, and we headed out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning, this chapter contains graphic depictions of attempted sexual assault *

We’d expected a sad situation when we reached Londonderry’s widow, but the sight that lay before us was unbearable. There was barely anything. The house was smaller than any we’d ever seen, smaller even than the mining cabins in Annesburg, and was in terrible condition. How anyone had managed to live there was beyond belief.  
Arthur knocked, both of us with knots heavy in our stomachs, and we were greeted with the sight of a slim blonde woman, her face hard. She wasted no time in tearing into Arthur, barely even noticing me. Soon, a small voice joined hers, and Arthur’s face fell. It was a young boy, skinny and afraid. I knew he was reminded of his son, and I took over, pushing past him to block his view.  
Once she saw we had no intention of actually collecting the debt, her demeanor changed. Maybe it helped that she’d seen how ashamed and small Arthur had felt. Either way, she took the money we offered gratefully, and took back some of the less polite things she’d said. Before she closed the door on us, she wished us well. Once her shadow had disappeared in the window, I turned to Arthur, taking him in my arms. He held onto me tightly, without shame, as he wrestled with his emotions, until finally he swore that Strauss would never hurt someone like that again.   
Once he’d mounted, he took off, pushing his horse so hard I could barely keep up. There was a fury in his face I’d rarely seen, his eyes ablaze as he rounded the last corner before camp. When he arrived, I watched from the path as he stormed towards Strauss, catching him by the collar. He was screaming at him, cursing and telling him he’d damned us all.  
It didn’t matter how fast I ran, though I tried to catch him. He was a runaway train, and there was nothing I could do but watch as he threw Strauss’ things at him and kicked him out of camp, everyone looking on in fear. No one else had seen what he’d just been through, or the sadness that swam beneath his anger. They couldn’t understand.  
As he watched Strauss leave, I tugged on his arm, eventually getting him to follow me to his tent and sit down. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his lap as I cradled his head to my chest, the rest of camp looking on in confusion. From across camp, I saw Dutch glaring at us, and Micah gritting his teeth, while Charles gave me a small, sad smile. Whatever and however Arthur had intended, there would be no denying we cared about each other now.   
Late the following morning, Charles and Arthur got an unexpected visit from the Chief at Wapiti, Rains Fall. Despite the truth that Dutch had been stirring up for them in an attempt at “distraction” for us, he’d gotten the army to agree to peace talks, and he wanted Arthur and Charles to ride with him. Essentially, they would be witnesses to whatever occurred, hopefully meaning the Army would be far less likely to go back on its word.  
I offered to go along, but they all said that it would look too aggressive for there to be that many “armed guards”, and that, hopefully, it wouldn’t be necessary. I told them to be careful and wished them luck, and Arthur pressed a quick kiss to my temple, looking over my shoulder as he did. I waved them goodbye, then went to the table with my journal, hoping to scratch my way through a rough escape plan.  
We’d already had some folks leave, Trelawney being the most recent. No one had expected him to stay, though. He’d never been one for hanging around, and, since everything in Saint Denis, I strongly suspected he was regretting leaving his family alone so often. Arthur and I had bade him goodbye that morning, wishing him the same “best of luck” that he’d wished us. I suspected he might know something about our scheme, especially when he offered us help making a new start elsewhere.  
I should have known something was up when I was suddenly supposed to switch guard duty with Joe, one of Micah’s “friends”. It was dusk, and he should’ve been on duty for a few more hours, but Bill got me and said Dutch needed Joe, so I went to take over. As dark fell, a sense of unease crept over me. The night was quiet, without even the usual wolves or Murfrees. On top of that, the area he’d been guarding wasn’t where we usually had a lookout stationed. It was isolated, a fair walk from camp, on a hillside with a heavily wooded area.  
I was debating finding someone to ask about the changes when I heard a shuffling noise. I stilled my body, listening and hoping to get an idea of what it was. It was rare that we were bothered at camp. Usually a strange noise turned out to be an animal, but with the Pinkertons practically breathing down our necks, we couldn’t be too careful. That also meant not reacting rashly and making plenty of noise.  
This didn’t sound like an animal. The footsteps were clumsy, like a heavy person trying not to make noise. The breathing was also loud, almost boarlike. My body tensed, ready for whatever might come. I gripped the rifle, ready to bring the butt against a face . . .  
And found it ripped out of my hands, a harsh chuckle in my ear. A dirty gag was placed in my mouth, tied tight and rough. Arms hooked behind my elbows, while a second pair of hands lifted my legs, and I was carried to the wooded area and thrown to the ground. I writhed, kicking as hard as I could, trying to free some part of me, but got backhanded to the face by a third person, unidentifiable in the darkness.  
The taste of blood filled my mouth as I was rolled over, my hands bound behind my back. My feet were grabbed roughly and pulled apart. I managed to pull my knees up, and I kicked out as hard as I could. My boot connected with something, and I heard a shout of pain. Then a body was on each ankle, holding my legs down. A familiar laugh sent shivers down my spine.  
“Hold her down good, boys. I’m gonna put my mark all over Morgan’s bitch.”  
Goddamn fucking Micah. Of course. God knew what he had against Arthur, though I could probably make a good guess. Arthur was everything he wasn’t. He was kind, strong, well liked, attractive, and, until recently he’d been the third most powerful man in the gang. And, of course, because he knew he could never best Arthur physically, he’d apparently decided he’d take what he wanted from me, instead. A convenient way to spoil something else for Arthur.  
As he reached for the front of my pants, I started squirming again, doing everything in my power to deny him, or at least make it as difficult as possible. When I jerked my head up as fast as I could, crashing it into his nose, he slammed the butt of his gun on my forehead, making me see stars. I felt the hot trickle of blood running through my eyebrow as he swore, and heard him tell one of them to hold my shoulders.  
He pushed a knife against my throat and told me that if I tried anything like that again, he’d be decorating Arthur’s tent with my insides, and went back to work on my buttons. The thought of him touching me made my stomach roil, and I almost wished he’d just kill me instead. Then I thought of Arthur. As much as I hated the thought, I knew he’d rather I live, even if he hated the idea as much as I did.  
Micah was on top of me by then, his hands all over my breasts. He’d gotten my pants open, but had abandoned the idea of pushing them down in favor of pinching my nipples as hard as he could. Every time I made a noise of pain, I could feel him flex against me. It was all I could do to not vomit all over him when he reached down and started stroking himself through his pants, moaning and sighing all the while.  
Before long, he decided he couldn’t wait anymore, and started fumbling at my pants, trying to push them down. I struggled against him, my stomach churning every time he touched my skin, but I was no match against three men, not with my hands tied behind me. Tears squeezed out of the corners of my eyes, making them all laugh. Micah stood back on his knees, leering at me. He reached down and ripped my shirt open, exposing my breasts to the three of them.  
“Well, well. Ol’ Morgan has decent taste after all. Just look at them . . . can’t wait to let go all over ‘em. Gonna paint you good, girl.”  
The three of them stared at me, chuckling, while Micah reached to the front of his pants. They were far too distracted to hear the rustling, or notice the shadow looming over their shoulders.


	9. Chapter 9

“What the hell is going on here?”  
The roar of Arthur’s voice was sweeter to me in that moment than any sound could have been. He grabbed Cleet and tossed him aside, then reached towards Micah. Unfortunately, Micah had grabbed his knife, and he used that time to slash across my chest, leaving a streak of blood. He stood, and Arthur lunged at him, catching him by the collar. I took the opportunity to wriggle over to the knife, cutting the bindings from my wrists.  
Immediately he started yelling for Dutch, the goddamn coward, and when he showed, he accused us of attacking him. It didn’t matter what either of us said, Dutch just told us to shut up and get it together. Then he looked down, eyes roaming my still exposed chest with a sneer.  
“Especially you.” Then he turned to Arthur. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I learned a while ago now not to expect better from you.” Then he clapped Micah on the shoulder, leading him away.  
Arthur was fuming. I could tell he was more than ready to chase them down and beat the hell out of them, but that was trouble we didn’t need right now, no matter how much they deserved it. Instead, I did my best to focus him on me.  
“Arthur . . . .”  
He turned to me, his face softening as he saw the blood. Then he pulled me into his arms, stroking the back of my head. Without another word, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then took my hand and lead me back to camp.  
He sat me down on his cot, then peeled off my ripped and bloody shirt and wiped me clean. He wrapped one of his shirts around my shoulders, leaving it open only enough to see my injuries. The cut above my eye needed a stitch, and I needed several more for the one on my chest. I watched as he silently prepared everything, and couldn’t help but notice that his hands were shaking slightly.  
“Arthur, are you alright?”  
He slammed the bottle of whiskey down on the table, covering his eyes with his hands. When he finally turned back to face me, there was a deep sadness in his eyes, his mouth turned down. He reached out and cupped the side of my face.  
“They . . . .” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “What they could have done to you . . . .”  
“But they didn’t. You were there.”  
He shook his head. “What if I wasn’t? What if it had taken me longer, or I’d decided to camp instead of come home?”  
“But you didn’t.” I sighed. “Believe me, I know what could have happened. I was terrified. And it’s worse to know that nothing will be done about the fact that they tried. But I refuse to waste time worrying about what could have been. You were there, and you stopped them.”  
He looked into my eyes, a small half smile on his face. Then he kissed me, lightly, on my forehead before taking a slug of whiskey and passing it to me. As I drank, he readied himself to put in the stitches I needed.  
“I know you’re right.” He said, watching the way I flinched as he put the needle through the skin of my forehead. “But you ain’t going anywhere without me now. And I ain’t leaving you here for this to happen again.” He knotted the stitch. “Im getting Charles to help me move your things into my tent, tonight, and I ain’t hearing a word of argument from you.”  
“Alright, Arthur. Whatever you say.” I smiled at him, which turned into a wince as he put the needle to my chest. He offered me the whiskey again, and I took it, doing my best to dull the pain.   
When he was done, he pulled his shirt back up over my shoulder, letting his fingertips linger against my skin before buttoning it. His palms were warm on my thighs as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I turned my face to catch his lips instead. The heat in his kiss surprised me, his hand catching the back of my head to pull me against his mouth as his tongue slipped past my lips. I wasn’t sure if the warmth spreading through me had more to do with the whiskey or his kiss, i just knew I wanted it to last.  
His mouth trailed along my jawline, then down my neck to my shoulder. I felt his teeth graze against my skin, and I gripped his arms hard as he put a dark mark on the side of my throat.  
“Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely as he broke free. “Got a bit carried away. Guess I just couldn’t stand it . . . the idea of him dirtying you with his touch, thinking about doing things to you . . . .”  
“Things you’d rather be doing?” I breathed out, as he gave me a slightly embarrassed smile.  
“Yeah.”  
“I’m sure you’ll get there.”  
He stood, then reached to pull me to my feet. I wrapped my arms around him in a gentle hug, and, with his arm around my waist, we left to retrieve my things. He traded his cot to Charles, and we made a bed on the ground instead. As we drifted to sleep, I felt the warmth of his body behind me, his arm firmly around me. I was comfortable, a sense of safety I’d never known before settling deep in my heart.  
He was true to his word, and stayed close to me, rarely even letting me leave his sight. Often, his arm was draped over my shoulder, or his hand was in mine, getting various reactions across camp. Most everyone in camp had heard what happened, and lines were drawn essentially where you’d expect them to be. Bill did try a mumbled apology for his part in it, but neither of us truly blamed him.  
We were out of camp as often as we could be, running errands for Dutch under the guise of gaining forgiveness. In reality, we were working hard on our escape plan, ironing out every wrinkle, preparing for every possible contingency. Charles or Sadie were often along, each taking important roles in what we hoped would be the final plan.  
It was during one of these rides with Charles that we stopped by Wapiti and found that the army had taken Rains Fall’s son captive. They were planning to hang him for treason, likely as revenge for their imagined insult during the peace talks, when Arthur had kept them from doing the same to a sympathetic captain.   
There was no choice. There wasn’t even a discussion. We were all of the same mind, and moved immediately. Though Arthur was worried about the strain on my shoulder, I assured him I’d be fine, and reminded him of his promise to keep me close. He agreed, however reluctantly, when I promised I’d stay away from the fort itself, and let the two of them sneak in.  
The entire ordeal went as well as it could, until they blew up the wall. I was ready which the canoes when I heard that, saving them a precious few seconds. Still, it was a close shave as we headed downriver, and, in the end, we had to kill more men than we would have liked. Arthur told Charles to take Eagle flies back to Wapiti, then waited until he was out of sight before turning to me.  
He swept me into his arms, kissing me with a depth and intensity that flushed my body. It was slow, tender, but with an underlying passion that told me there was much more to come. When the kiss ended, he gently touched the side of my face.  
“No more waiting. I got the feeling this is about over, and I ain’t taking anymore chances. I’m gonna be with you while I still got the time.”  
He mounted his horse, then pulled me up and headed off. Soon, we were outside of a small hotel. After he’d helped me down, he took my hand, leading me inside. Once he’d paid for the room, he gave strict instructions that we weren’t to be disturbed “unless the place was on fire”, and lead me away.


	10. Chapter 10

Once he’d closed the door, locking it behind him, he crossed the floor to stand in front of me. Slowly, he reached up, letting his fingers trail along the sides of my face. His eyes were gentle, full of admiration. As his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, I sighed, closing my eyes. The feel of his rough, calloused skin against my lips sent a shiver down my spine.   
He took a step towards me, leaning his head low, bringing his face close to mine but still not kissing me. Instead, he traced his nose against the line of my jaw, until his face was buried in my neck, and inhaled deeply. The warmth of his exhale against my skin sent heat pooling between my legs, rising fast as his fingers traced down the length of my spine.   
I reached to his collar, tracing the edge and letting my hands rest against his chest, gripping his shirt hard as I felt the trail of his tongue against my throat. A soft moan escaped me, and I felt the firm grip of his palm against my ass. His shuddering breath sent goosebumps across my skin, my nipples hardening, begging for his touch. The heat between my legs had turned to wetness, every brush of his skin making desire flare hotter inside of me.  
I moaned again, louder, as my fingers trailed their way down the buttons of his shirt. Each time I touched his skin, he let out a soft gasp or groan, until at last my hands slid across his broad chest, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. His mouth met mine, his arms warm and strong around me as he held me close.  
“Mine.” He whispered in the trembling darkness. “You’re mine.”  
With his forehead pressed against mine, he fumbled down the buttons of my shirt, until my chest lay bare before him. He drew in a sharp breath as I peeled it off, dropping it to the floor behind me, and his hands danced across my skin in soft, reverent caresses. My eyes closed, senses overcome by his simple touch. I couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.  
His hands fell to my hips, his body pressing mine onto the bed as the hot breath of his kisses traveled downward across my skin. My legs spread beneath him, wanting him, as his mouth found my breast. He sucked hard, his tongue teasing across my nipple and gaining him a deep groan as his hands worked against my pants. He grunted in frustration, and I took over. I’d barely gotten them open before he’d grabbed them, tearing them off of my legs. When I tried to move my body onto the bed, his hands gripped my hips, firmly holding me in place as his teeth grazed against my skin, moving downward, downward, and downward.  
I felt the soft brush of his breathing between my legs as he stilled for a moment, on his knees before me. Then his palms against my thighs, pushing them apart, spreading my legs wide before him. His kisses trailed up the insides of my thighs, slowly, his tongue testing the waters as he moved closer to his goal. Goosebumps rose on my skin as I felt myself growing hot, wet, my breath now a tense panting.  
As his tongue parted my folds, a deep, guttural groan emerged from me, primal with desire. My hands flew to his hair as his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips, his head rolling against me. His tongue worked in long, slow strokes, up and down the length of me, his moans vibrating deliciously, then in tight circles and sweet, hungry laps. He threw my legs over his shoulders, moving against me faster, harder, until my thighs were squeezing his head tightly. My body tensed, back arching off the mattress as my moans overtook the room. His groans were nearly as loud as mine, fingers clawing my thighs, as if he could get closer, move his tongue deeper inside of me.   
When I collapsed, he leaned back, wiping his dripping face and pushing his pants off. As his body descended on mine, I wrapped my arms around him, my face pressed into his neck. He pushed into me easily, despite his size, and was soon moving with a steady rhythm, his soft grunts heavenly in my ears. I clutched him close, as close as I could. Both of us knew that this might be the only time we had.  
He leaned back to look at me, and I stroked his face tenderly. The hot prick of tears welling up in my eyes made me feel ashamed. I knew I should give myself over, let go, and enjoy the moment, but after all the things we’d been through, I was afraid. Afraid things would go wrong, that one or both of us wouldn’t make it through. Afraid that I’d lose him before I really even had him.   
He touched his forehead to mine.  
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”  
I shook my head. I didn’t want to ruin things, but I had to say something.  
“I know this is a bad time to say this, and I should probably keep my mouth shut.” I sighed heavily, cupping my hands behind his head. “I know it’s way too soon, and maybe you don’t feel the same way, even hate me for feeling like I do . . .”  
His face pulled into a frown, and I knew, I just knew I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life, but I couldn’t stop myself.  
“But, Arthur . . . I can’t help it. I’m in love with you. Completely. It scares me so much, I can’t hardly stand it. But it’s how I feel, and I can’t stand the thought of you not knowing.”  
I readied myself, expecting him to pull away, get himself dressed and leave me alone. Instead, he pressed his body against mine, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me as close as he could. His mouth caught mine, hard, his teeth pinching against my lips as he kissed me for everything he was worth.   
“Me too.”  
“Yeah?”   
“Yeah.”  
The tears spilled over, hot and salty against my skin as we held each other, and he kissed them away as fast as they fell. Soon he was moving inside of me again, his face focused on mine. My head fell back, his name crossing my lips in a sweet sigh as his mouth found my throat. When had I been this content before? When had I ever been allowed to?  
My fingers dug into his shoulders as his hips moved faster between my legs, his soft moans turning to pants and groans. He was pushing deeper into me with every stroke, hitting every spot I wanted him to hit, and every time I groaned his name, his cock thickened inside of me, on the verge of spilling. He was trying to hold back, I knew, but we felt so good together that soon his teeth were against my neck, the sheets bunched in his hand as he cried my name.  
He lay limp across my body, my fingertips tracing the muscles of his back. I loved his form. It was perfect, the way his muscles lay, their shape, their size. The width of his shoulders. Even his weight, pressing down on me. He was so substantial, so utterly solid.  
We spent days in that room. I lost count of the number of times we were together. It seemed as if every time we considered heading back to camp, one of us pulled the other under the covers for “just once more”, and night would fall before we knew it. It was too hard to face the reality of what our life had become, and too easy to fall into the comfort of each other’s arms.


	11. Chapter 11

Finally, one day as we lay together after another “one last time”, there was a knock. Dutch had sent Charles and Sadie to find us, saying we were needed at camp. Reluctantly, we dressed and headed out behind them. None of us spoke as we rode back to camp, save a few warnings that Micah and his friends had been at Dutch’s side since we’d left, and he now seemed to be on the warpath. Especially for Arthur.  
“Truth be told, he only asked us to bring back Arthur.” Charles told us as we neared camp. “He hasn’t mentioned you at all, Bo.”  
“Typical. Guess Micah’s got him believing I’ve completely ruined Arthur.”  
“Something like that, I think.”  
“Well, I don’t give a shit.” Sadie burst out. “Dutch ain’t the man I thought he was. You ask me, he can go straight to hell.”  
Silence fell again, until we entered camp to find Eagle Flies deep in conversation with Dutch, who was once again riling him up, encouraging him to attack Cornwall Kerosene, of all places. Even though Cornwall himself was dead, Dutch couldn’t let him go. Since Micah and Blackwater, he seemed to have developed a thirst for revenge that was insatiable. He’d stop at nothing to destroy those who’d done him wrong, despite drilling it into everyone’s heads for years that the Van Der Linde gang wasn’t in the revenge business.  
To make matters worse, Rains Fall came up just as Dutch was readying everyone to go, pitting himself and Arthur as the voice of reason against Dutch and Eagle Flies’ reckless impulsiveness. Even Arthur’s pleading for the safety of the women and Jack, and Rains Fall’s petition for the safety of his only child couldn’t move them.  
In the end, Arthur and Charles rode along with everyone else to Cornwall Kerosene and Tar. Well, nearly everyone. Despite Arthur’s protests, I was told by Dutch to stay back “minding the women and children Arthur’s so concerned with”. The fire in Arthur’s eyes could only be matched by the smugness in both Dutch and Micah’s. I’m fairly certain that the only reason he didn’t shoot the two of them then and there was that Charles reminded him that they needed to watch after Eagle Flies, and Rains Fall assured him he’d keep an eye on me.   
At Charles suggestion, I followed him to Wapiti, where I waited alone for Arthur. I think he understood that there are no words that won’t ring hollow when you’re all but certain someone you love won’t return. Whatever Dutch tried to say, I knew that this was supposed to be our punishment, our payment for lack of blind loyalty. Why else would he have kept us apart?  
It was well after midnight when I heard his voice, a scream ripping through the darkness. Rains Fall and I both tore out to meet him, my heart in my throat as I saw blood. Though it wasn’t his, it was little comfort. Arthur may have survived, but Eagle Flies was weak, gasping as they lowered him to the ground. He wouldn’t live much longer, breathing his last gasp as his father held his hand.  
Arthur and I retreated, giving them privacy for their grief. He lead me away, down the mountain, before he stopped abruptly at the edge of the woods. The second he had me off the horse, his arms were around me, his breath coming in choked sobs against my hair. He gripped me so tightly I could barely breathe, and I held him just as fiercely.  
“Dutch . . . ,” he stammered out. “He left me. A gun in my face, him standing there . . . doing nothing. Not a damn thing. If Eagles Flies hadn’t . . . .”  
His words were cut off as he choked back another sob. As he cupped my face in his hands, I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch. His lips met mine, tender kisses falling like his tears against my skin. As the warmth of his tongue passed my lips, I wrapped my arms around his waist, wishing that we could stay that way forever.  
After he broke the kiss, he trailed his thumb against my bottom lip, taking a deep breath in.  
“Look, we still have to get the others. They have to leave. As much as I want to, I can’t walk away from this, and, if I know you, you can’t either.” I shook my head. “This ain’t done. So, if . . . if I don’t make it out . . . .”  
I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down into a hard kiss.  
“No. Don’t. Don’t talk like that-“  
“I ain’t stupid and neither are you. We both know the chances are slim that both of us make it out. If only one of us can make it-“  
“No.”  
“Listen, I just wanna know you’re safe . . . .”  
“No. I ain’t doing it. I ain’t gonna be left without you. Not now, not never. You die, I’ll blow up the goddamn world.”  
He leaned back, taking a long, hard look at my face before pulling me against his chest. After a few minutes, he let me go, kissing the corner of my mouth. We walked hand and hand back to the horses, and just before I mounted, I felt his hand on my arm. I turned towards him, and he leaned in to give me another kiss.  
“Love you.” He said gruffly.  
“Love you too, Arthur.”  
He stood there, looking down at our joined hands. Finally, he sighed, then shook his head.  
“I’m about to do what may be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” He mumbled to himself, then looked at me. “Right. So don’t feel like you got to agree or anything, but at least hear me out, okay?” I nodded, confused. “I know it’s not likely we’re both gonna make it out. And I’m terrified. I . . . I love you. Really love you. You been my friend a long time, and now . . . .” He shook his head. “If I had time I’d do this different. But you and me both know time’s running short, and I ain’t about to let this go.”  
He took a step back, then squatted on one knee.  
“Miss Isabeau Black, if you and I both make it out the other side of this alive, you wanna marry me?”  
His hands were trembling slightly as he held mine, his eyes full of softness and fear. He was so unlike the tough outlaw others knew him as. But this was him, the real him, not the face he put on for others. A grin split my face.  
“Of course.”  
He took me in his arms and nothing else mattered. If the rest of the world had fallen away, disappearing into nothingness, I wouldn’t have cared. I had him, and as far as I was concerned, that meant I had everything.  
Our reverie didn’t last. By the time we made it back to camp, we found everyone scrambling, packing saddlebags and readying guns. When Dutch laid his eyes on Arthur, I saw a faint look of surprise, quickly covered by wide open arms. Arthur, on the other hand, had definitely gotten over his earlier breakdown. His eyes were positively fierce, full of venom. He stormed across to Dutch, letting the whole camp hear his accusations of abandonment.  
Of course Dutch denied it. He claimed misunderstanding, he claimed insecurity, he claimed Arthur had flat out imagined it. More than anything, he moved on quickly, sweeping Arthur into the rush of the final big score. A military payroll train, one headed straight for the bridge that they’d blown up some time ago. Perfect.  
Arthur agreed, taking time to gather his things. In reality, it was more to give him a chance to talk to those of us who were ready to leave. Everyone who could shoot would be along, and there would be a lot of chaos. There would also be more money than could be properly accounted for, meaning that if we were committed, this was the time.


	12. Chapter 12

Once the robbery was done, I was to break off with Charles, taking the money we had already along with any we’d stolen. We’d head to a place we’d scouted deep in the mountains. Sadie would head back as quick as she could to get anyone left in camp away. Abigail was going to get the money Dutch had hidden away, splitting it among the others, since they may not get a share of what was stolen. Since John and Arthur would be out together, Arthur would find a way to slip John off, telling him where Abigail and Jack would be waiting with Sadie.   
The risky part was Arthur. Somehow, he was going to have to not just slip away, but do so in such a way that he would look incapacitated. Charles would spread “news” of his death later, to help, and had even offered to set up a false grave. Once that was all said and done, Arthur and I were going to split off, change our names, and head farther north into Canada.   
Slipping John away turned out to be the easiest part. He fell, and when he cried out for help from Dutch, he abandoned him the same way he had Arthur before. It was a simple matter for Charles to head back and help him, giving him the proper location. He returned quickly, catching up with Arthur and relaying what had happened the best that he could.   
Since Charles and I had gotten separated, I did my best to slip away, trotting into the depth of a nearby wooded area. I knew Charles would find me easily, I just hoped no one else would. It was a risk, but less of one than heading out alone.  
While I waited, I dismounted, walking away from the horse and slipping into the shadow of some underbrush. That way, if anyone came looking, they’d see the horse first, and it would give me time to get away, or be ready to fight, if I couldn’t.  
I didn’t realize I was being watched as I did those things. Not until I felt the cold steel of a knife at my throat, and the hot press of a body behind me.  
I cursed myself for not being observant enough as a thick arm wrapped around my waist, directing me. A glance downward told me it was the arm of a Pinkerton, the last thing on earth I needed.  
“A little birdie told me you’re the whore of Arthur Morgan. What do you think he’d do to save your pretty little neck?”  
I spat my reply. “I’m nobody’s goddamn whore. And he won’t do shit for me.”  
The man laughed in my ear, horrible hot breath tickling the side of my face. The hand he had around my waist was wandering, pulling at my shirt while he drug me deep into the woods.  
“That’s not what I’ve heard.” He pulled the edge of my shirt out of my pants, pinching hard at my skin. “I heard that last time a man tried to take you, Mr Morgan nearly killed him. Tell me, how much noise do you think you’ll have to make to get him over here?”  
His hand wedged in the front of my pants, knife pricking against my throat as I tried to squirm away. I felt a droplet of blood trickling down, furious at my helplessness. Then he moved the knife, intent on turning me around, and I smashed the back of my head against his nose. He squealed in pain, kicking my legs from under me and throwing me to the ground.  
“I’ll slit your throat for that, you goddamn bitch! Worthless fucking whore!” His hands were around my throat, slamming my head into the ground over and over again, until I saw stars “Micah was right, you’re nothing, fucking nothing but a worthless-“  
The next thing I knew, I could breathe again, my darkening vision swimming back into focus. Something hot, wet, and sticky was all over my body, my neck felt unbearably bruised, and I thought my head might explode if I moved it too fast.  
But at the center of it all was Arthur’s face.  
He pulled me to my feet with one arm, pressing his mouth to mine in a hot kiss. He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head.  
“Go. I’ll see you soon.”  
With a quick jerk of his head, he mounted, then took off. I saw him glance back at me once, eyes pained with longing, and prayed to any and everything listening that he’d be okay.  
Moments later, Charles found me, and I climbed behind him, my head hurting too much to trust myself while riding. Besides, if anyone found my horse, they’d probably assume I’d been shot or taken in, which was exactly what I wanted. I don’t know how long it took to get to the cabin, or remember much about what happened while I was there. My only thoughts were of Arthur.  
Charles told me again and again that Arthur had things to do, that he knew where we were, and he’d come. But I couldn’t forget the look on his face as he left, or the creeping dread in my stomach. By the time dusk was falling the second day, even Charles was worried. He tried to convince me to wait, stay at the cabin, but his heart wasn’t in it. Instead, when I mounted and rode out, he followed.  
We saw from a distance that the camp at Beaver Hollow had been deserted, ransacked by Pinkertons, and we’d seen no trace of Arthur on the way. After thinking for a bit, I remembered John telling me about a hidden escape at the back of the cave, barely noticeable, that lead out to a spot some distance away. If Arthur had returned to camp & they’d been ambushed by Pinkertons, there was a good chance he’d lead anyone he could that way.  
I rode hard, Charles behind me, but saw no evidence of Arthur. Worry was eating away at my heart. Every place that Arthur wasn’t meant less of a chance of finding him. I got down from my horse, sat beneath a tree, and sighed. Charles joined me, putting his arm around my shoulders.  
“We’ll find him. He’s okay. Arthur’s tough, he’s been through so much . . . and now he’s got a real reason to pull through.” He paused for a second. “He told me you’re getting married.”  
“If I can find him. Charles, I’m so scared. I know something’s wrong. I just know. We have to get to him.”  
“I know.”  
He hugged me tightly, then let go. As he went to stand, he did a double take, then knelt suddenly.  
“Mount up.”  
I did, and he lead me through winding paths and up the side of a mountain. Soon, we couldn’t ride anymore, and we continued on foot. The moon was full, bright and high in the sky. If it hadn’t been, I’m not sure I would have seen the figure on the cliff’s edge. It was large, familiar- and incredibly still.  
I didn’t think twice before running, my boots sliding across the loose gravel. I don’t know how many times I fell, or how long it took me to reach him. I only know the terror in my heart when I saw how bruised he was, caked with dried blood as he lay against a boulder. His lips were cracked and dry, but warm when I touched them, and I saw a flutter of his eyelids. Soon his blue eyes were fixed on me, though they were glazed and dull, unable to focus.  
“Bo?”


	13. Chapter 13

It was more a breath than a word, but it was something, at least. He was alive, and he recognized me. I grasped his face, kissing him, then I took a flask of water from my pocket and poured it carefully into his mouth. By the time Charles caught up, he’d recovered a bit of focus, though he was still weak.   
Between the two of us, along with the words Arthur could spare, we found he had several broken bones in one hand, and possibly broken ribs. He’d been beaten to hell and back, thanks to Micah, but Dutch had called him away before he could finish him off. Still, he’d need a lot of rest to recover, and it was going to hurt him a great deal to get him somewhere he could get it. Charles and I helped him stand, moving slowly down to the horses. It took a great deal of maneuvering and pain to get him mounted, but what choice did we have?   
Charles rode with him, more capable of catching him if he started to fall, while I rode nearby and worried. This was worse than when the O’Driscolls had gotten him, and that had put him out for two or three weeks. Though we tried to ride as slow and easy as we could, it was clear he was in a lot of pain. We considered stopping to rest, but figured it would make things more difficult for him, and it would be better to push through.  
By the time we reached the cabin, we were all exhausted. Charles helped me get him cleaned up and undressed, and then we took care of his injuries the best we could. The entire time, Arthur was barely conscious, moving heavily when he did at all, and only grunting in pain. Once, he cried out, when I was splinting his hand, and then he passed out on the bed.  
Charles settled himself on the floor, while I climbed into bed beside Arthur. Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t sleep. Every time Arthur twitched or groaned in his sleep, I was afraid he was in pain. Besides that, I couldn’t stop looking at him. I just couldn’t believe we were out, and he was there beside me. We weren’t out of the woods, but we were together, and alive.  
I rolled on my side, reaching over to caress his cheek, and smiled softly as I felt him nuzzle against my hand. Even battered, covered in cuts and bruises, he was beautiful to me. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have by my side. My hand slipped down, gently stroking the hair on his chest, and I fell asleep to the warmth of his body beneath my hand.   
Dawn was creeping over the horizon when I heard the soft whimpers from the other side of the bed. I sat up to check on Arthur, and the look of pain and fear on his face broke my heart. His mouth pulled down as he whimpered again, and then he started murmuring in his sleep, begging.  
“Arthur.” I whispered, gently touching his cheek. “Hey, wake up.”  
His eyes flew open with a gasp, darting from side to side. Once they settled on my face, he relaxed. He slowly and carefully brought his hand up to cover mine.  
“Thought I lost you.” His eyes closed  
“No. I’m right here.”  
A soft smile played across his lips. “Marry me. Marry me. Please.”  
“You already asked me that.” I said, but he was asleep again.  
Charles left the next day, as I assured him I’d be able to handle Arthur. He promised to check in and let us know how everyone was doing, and that he’d see us for a proper visit before we left. He also said he’d check and see everything was going for Rains Fall, knowing Arthur would appreciate it. As he mounted his horse, a wave of anxiety washed over me, mingling with relief.   
This was a different life now. The people we’d once called family were scattered to the winds, and it was likely we’d never see some of them again. The man we’d considered a father was gone, a man we’d thought of as a friend was now an enemy. Arthur was injured, weak, and probably not good for moving north for a few weeks, at least. Not safely.  
And yet, he was here, with me. We’d shared a bed last night, and there wasn’t a damn thing that would keep us from doing it every night for the foreseeable future. There’d be no more killing, no more robbing. From what I could tell, we had enough money to do anything that either of us wanted for the rest of our lives. Given what he’d said this morning, marriage was pretty clearly high on his list of concerns.  
I went inside, locking the door and propping a chair in front of it, just in case. Then I moved to check on Arthur. He was still sleeping, and I took the opportunity to look at his face in the clear morning light. It was close to being one enormous bruise, one eye swollen shut, and his lip split. Luckily, none of the cuts on his face needed stitches, though he’d have a few more scars.   
I reached out to touch him gently, doing my best to avoid the bruises. Unfortunately that meant my fingers ran along his lips, tickling him, and he twitched in his sleep. The pain of sudden movement woke him, and with a soft groan, he turned his eyes to me. With a smile, I asked him how he was feeling .  
“Like hell.” He croaked, mouth dry. I helped him get down a few sips of water, and he laid his head back on the pillow. “How’d you make out?”  
“Not nearly as bad as you. Nothing after the last time I saw you.”  
He nodded the best he could, then filled me in on everything that had happened. Apparently, when the Pinkerton who’d attacked me didn’t show up, they sent others out, who’d taken Abigail. He and Sadie had gone to get her, but before Arthur could explain about John, Dutch had told her he was dead. John, meanwhile, got wind that she was taken, and set out to find her, ending up back at camp just as the Pinkertons showed. He and John had ended up running from the Pinkertons and into Micah, and Arthur had distracted him so John could get to Abigail. He was about to kill Micah and be rid of the biggest problem, but Dutch had shown up, stopping him.  
“Nearly didn’t get away. Goddamn Micah. I wish I could say I can’t believe he was feeding the Pinkertons information, but mostly I can’t believe I didn’t get it sooner. Feel like an idiot.”  
“Maybe, but you’re my idiot.” I smiled at him, leaning to gently kiss his cheek. His uninjured hand found mine.  
“I am. Always.”  
The next weeks were a blur of sleeping and caring for Arthur. He healed well, faster than I’d expected, which he claimed was because he had “such a pretty doctor”. More than once I had to remind him that he needed to rest in order to heal, not to wrestle me in bed.  
“Can’t help it.” He told me while I sat in bed beside him, his head against my hip. “You’re so goddamn tempting.”  
He reached over with his good hand, trailing his fingers up the inside of my thigh. As he reached the hem of my nightdress, I stopped him, putting my hand over his.  
“Rest, Arthur. We’ve got plenty of time for that later.”  
He nuzzled against my hip, wiggling his hand out from under mine. “Don’t want to wait.”  
He squeezed my thigh, and I felt his hand creeping upward beneath my nightdress. His fingers brushed against me, and my hips jolted forward, a gasp tearing from my throat. One glance at his smirk, and I knew he was perfectly aware that I wasn’t going to stop him. I’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted me, and being the voice of responsibility and reason had grown thin.  
With tortuous slowness, he traced the line of my folds, his fingertips spreading me open to reveal how swollen and wet I already was. I slipped downward in the bed, my thighs held wide, gaping, so hungry for the feel of him he couldn’t deny me. His thick fingers pushed into me, stroking, as I moaned beneath his touch. It had been so long, too long, without the feeling of his skin against mine.  
He withdrew his fingers, eyes locked on mine as he put them in his mouth, sucking my juices off with a groan. As he pulled me lower in the bed, his hand slid between my legs again, finding the swollen mound of my clit, stroking it, circling, rubbing, until I was begging for release. My nightdress was bunched at my waist, and I was a panting, moaning mess as he rolled to his back. The sheets were tented, wet at the tip of his cock, when he pulled them away.  
“Come on, sweetheart. Ride me.”  
His voice was rough, husky with desire, and his eyes burned with lust as I straddled his hips. Once I’d pulled my nightdress over my head, I took him in my hand, watching the look of ecstasy on his face as I lowered myself slowly down his thick cock. His hands grasped at my hips, urging me to bounce, rock, anything to give him the pleasure he craved.  
Instead, I sat still, his cock twitching inside me, begging me the same way I’d begged him before. I stretched my arms over my head, leaning backwards, and thrust my breasts out. Ever so slowly, I started rolling my hips against his. He threw his head back as a deep growl sounded from his chest.  
“Goddamn. You feel so good.”  
I leaned forward, propping myself on the bed as I took his bottom lip between my teeth. As I trailed my tongue across it, his hips bucked between my legs. In response, I lifted myself, dragging my cunt up his cock to the very tip. His whine of complaint turned into a string of curses as I dropped back down, grinding him deep inside of me.   
“Fuck the goddamn pain.”  
He lifted his hips, throwing me onto my back and pounding into me. His kisses were hot and hard on my mouth as he searched between our bodies, until his thumb found my clit. In no time at all, he had my nails digging into his back, his name on my lips as I clenched around him. His hips quickened, until I felt him spill hot inside of me, and he collapsed in breathlessness.  
I brushed the hair off of his forehead, kissing him there before carefully helping him roll onto his back. He grunted in pain, but looked at me with a smile on his face.  
“I’m gonna feel that later, but, goddammit it was worth it.”  
I laid my head on his chest, letting him hold me close like he hadn’t been able to recently. The warmth of his skin felt wonderfully comfortable against me. I could hardly believe we were there, together, and safe from harm. Our old life already seemed so far away.


	14. Chapter 14

Once he felt capable of traveling, we gathered our things, packing what we felt we could easily take. It wasn’t much. Mostly what we needed was each other. Too much that tied us to our past would be more problematic than anything. We found we were much better off than we’d expected, financially.  
Charles returned to us later than expected. It had taken him a while to secure and build a proper “grave” for Arthur, and longer still to find out what had happened to everyone, and spread word of Arthur’s supposed death. No one was surprised that Micah had beat him so severely, or that Dutch had let him do it, proving that Dutch had gone over the edge long before.  
It did help that Arthur had apparently been spreading the word that he was sick with something serious, likely fatal. He’d been feeling poorly since Guarma, and been examined after passing out in Saint Denis one time, the story went. Of course, he made everyone promise not to tell me, because he didn’t want to ruin the happiness we’d found together.  
“That was clever, Arthur!”  
He looked at me, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been known to happen. Anyway, it helped, so now we’re good.”  
Charles nodded. “It helped alright. Most everyone assumed that once you’d heard about him dying you went on a self destructive rampage. They bet either you’d get yourself killed in a shootout or drink yourself to death, you missed him so much.”  
I walked over to him, carefully wrapping my arms around his waist, and he held me against his chest. He kissed my forehead, then looked towards Charles.  
“I guess this is about it. We all got things to be getting on with, and I don’t want to keep you.”  
“I’m gonna miss you, Arthur. You too, Bo. It wasn’t long, but I feel like you’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”  
“It’s that way for me, too.” I reached to hug Charles, and Arthur followed suit.  
“Well, we’ll be up a ways in Canada. You ever get the urge, come and find us.”  
“How? I don’t even know what names you’ll be using.”  
“We been thinking about that. Bo’s been through names before, so she’s gonna pick it up quicker than me. I need something simple and easy to remember. So I think I’ll just be Morgan.”  
“Meanwhile, I’m gonna go by Cadence. Or Cade, anyway. Never could stand long names, but they’re helpful at confusing folks. Once we get married, we’re gonna use my uncle’s last name. Sinclair.”  
Charles smiled. “I wish you luck. Maybe someday I’ll make it to see you.”  
“I hope you do Charles. It’d be nice to see a friendly face once all this is over.” Arthur said as he clapped him on the back.  
We headed towards Canada the following morning, taking a somewhat wandering route. There were places we wanted to see, and we wanted to avoid being too easily traced. We stayed away from civilization as much as possible, choosing to camp instead. When we couldn’t avoid towns, or we wanted a change, we’d use variations of each other’s names, and change everything about our appearance we could once we left. Sometimes we were a sweet, freshly married couple out to see the west, sometimes we were grizzled gold miners. Once or twice we were siblings headed to see family, but that was awful for Arthur. He’d barely gotten used to being affectionate with me, so having to watch himself was particularly difficult. After he slipped up once and playfully slapped my ass, drawing some rather odd looks, he made me promise we’d never do it again.  
“We ain’t the Aberdeens.” He’d told me, visibly disgusted. Though I’d never met them myself, I knew what he’d told me, and I couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid that association.  
I knew he liked it best when we’d play married. He’d be the sweetest gentleman “husband”, taking my hand, giving me loving kisses, and even calling me every pet name he could think of. The grin on his face anytime someone called me his wife took years off of him. When he produced a pair of silver bands one evening before bed and asked if we could wear them, I knew it was time to make things official.  
We found a tiny town right on the border of Canada, endearing ourselves to the few people living there and spinning a tale of forbidden love. We’d cared for each other for years, since we were children, we told them, but our parents had wanted different things for us. He was supposed to take over the general store he’d been working at, marrying the owner’s daughter. I, on the other hand, was supposed to marry an old associate of my father, returning with him to New York to care for his children.   
The bought the story easily, the romance of it sweeping suspicions away. Particularly when I confessed, tearfully, to the reverend’s wife that Arthur and I had given into temptation on one sinful occasion, and now I was pregnant. He was only trying to do what was right by me, and for our future child. Of course she understood! Love, after all, didn’t follow rules.  
After seeing us properly wed and celebrated, we were given a sum of money they’d collected for us, despite our insistence we had more than enough on our own. Though they wanted us to stay a while, we managed to leave, making it over the border before nightfall. We were lucky enough to find a deserted, if slightly dilapidated, cabin, and after we got settled, Arthur pulled me into his lap. He took my left hand, letting his thumb run over my wedding band before kissing it reverently.  
“I love you.” He sighed, looking deeply into my eyes.  
“I love you too.”  
He stroked the side of my face tenderly, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad Dutch went crazy.”   
I raised an eyebrow.  
“Otherwise I wouldn’t have this.” He touched my chin, tilting it down to kiss me. “Dutch, Mary. Micah. Blackwater. Even that goddamn island. Lead me here.”  
His arms slipped around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest as he spread his legs, just slightly, in what I was fast learning was an unmistakable sign of arousal. He took a deep, shuddering breath before pressing his mouth against my throat, pouring hot kisses along my skin. His fingertips grazed the hem of my shirt, until he reached the bottom button. Then, slowly, he worked his way up, carefully baring my skin. As I moved to straddle his lap, his eyes roamed my body, wide and hungry, as if he was seeing it for the first time all over again.  
His hands skimmed across my body as I traced my fingers down the buttons of his union suit, opening it and pushing it down. My lips traveled the breadth of his shoulders, across his throat, until I sucked hard at his neck, marking him. The delicious groan that rumbled through his chest sent warmth spreading between my legs, desire coursing like fire through my veins.  
“All of this . . ,” I whispered as my hands wandered the warmth of his skin, “is mine. Every inch.”  
“Always.” He returned, his mouth working kisses across my chest.   
His grip was iron around my waist, my soft sighs deepening to gasps as his tongue trailed against my breasts. I felt his hips move beneath me, pressing the hardness of his length against me with a hungry moan. His name fell from my lips, whispered like a prayer as lust drove him on, to lift me and carry me to our makeshift wedding bed.  
Lips and hands against skin blurred into the heat of passion as we bared ourselves to one another, tender and unafraid of the future. I felt him press against me, hesitating, as he brushed the hair from my forehead. His eyes were deep, full of love as he kissed me  
“I want you. I want this life with you. I want to give you everything you deserve. Everything you want.”  
“I already have that.”  
My hands cupped his face as I placed a gentle kiss against his lips. He pushed inside of me, taking up a slow, languid pace. No need to rush, we had the rest of our lives.  
“You know,” he said with a soft grunt of pleasure, “you kinda scared me back there, talking to the reverend’s wife.”  
“I did?”  
“Mmhmm.” He buried his face in my neck before leaning back to look at me. “I almost though you was serious when you told her you was pregnant.”  
Admittedly, I was taken aback. We’d never talked about children, but he’d spoken fondly of his son, and positively doted on Jack.   
“That scared you?”  
He stopped moving so that he could look at me, though it seemed he could barely bring his eyes to meet mine. A pit of cold dread opened in my stomach.  
“Yeah. I mean . . . a little. But . . . .”  
“What?”   
He was hiding his face from mine, as well as it could be accomplished in the situation. I cautiously touched his face, noticing as I turned it towards mine that he was wearing a faint blush.  
“Arthur, what is it?”  
“Well, when you said it, I kinda . . . got a little bit excited.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Me, you, and a little one? A family?” He grinned sheepishly, dipping his head down again. I felt the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes. When he noticed, his face fell. “Well, I mean, it’d be nice, but I don’t want you to do nothing you don’t want to do. We ain’t gotta have a family, just you is nice, and I don’t mean to rush things. We got time. I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you none.”  
I grabbed his face, pulling his forehead to mine.  
“Would you shut up and let me talk?” I rolled my eyes. “Im not upset, you moron.”  
“Well then, why’re you-“  
“Because I’m pregnant.”  
He was stock still, shock all over his face. His eyes darted back and forth, then he looked at me. When he spoke, it was soft, almost inaudible.  
“For real?”  
I nodded. “Almost two months now. I was gonna wait and tell you once we found a place.”  
He kissed me with a ferocity that nearly took my breath away. Quite literally.  
“Arthur! You’re gonna suffocate me!”  
He withdrew from me, curling at my side and resting his head against my chest, softly caressing my stomach. His fingertips traced the soft curve there, then he took me in his arms.  
“I promise you, I’m gonna take care of you. Nothing will happen to you, and I’m gonna be sure you’ve got a good roof over your head, and plenty to eat. You’ll want for nothing. Anything you want, anything you need, you’ll have.” He sighed contentedly, then continued rubbing across my stomach. After a few minutes, a smile started twitching across his lips. “I can’t wait to see you, full up with our baby. All round and fat . . . and perfect.”  
“I love you, Arthur.”  
“I love you too.”


	15. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I opted to go ahead and post the rest of this because it was written already, and I was forgetting to update regularly because I switched writing apps. I hope you guys feel like it was worth the read.

I stepped through the front door to stand beside him, letting him wrap his arm around my waist and pull me into a kiss. His free hand reached down, rubbing the giant mound of my stomach as he smiled.   
“Ain’t long now, huh?”  
I shook my head.   
“No. But we’re ready. At least I know I am. I’ll be glad to see my feet again.”  
He laughed. “Yeah, and I’m eager to see the little one. But I gotta admit, you look damn fine being pregnant.”  
He pressed his face into my neck, gently nipping, while the hand that had been around my waist drifted down to squeeze my ass. I let my hand slide down the front of his shirt, teasing at his belt, and he kissed me eagerly, open mouthed and hungry.  
About that time we were greeted by a small sound of disgust, and looked to see Buckley making a face, his sister glancing to the side and copying him. She always had to be just like her big brother, more and more every day. Sometimes it was maddening, having a copy of a child who was already a damn near perfect copy of his father, but mostly it was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. Besides, Arthur assured me often that she had her mother’s pout, the one that never failed to make sure she got anything she wanted from him.  
“Hey Buck,” Arthur started, “why don’t you go on and take Opal and get ready for dinner?”  
“Pa, do I have to? She always splashes me! Besides, I don’t need washin’ up, my hands ain’t that dirty.”  
“Buckley Morgan Sinclair, you could grow turnips underneath those nails. Get on.”  
I swatted playfully at him as he headed in the house, pushing his sister in front of him. Arthur squeezed my shoulder, placing a soft kiss against my temple. Life was perfect.   
I’d already turned to head into the house when I heard Arthur muttering under his breath.  
“What the hell?”  
There was a dark figure on a horse headed down the path towards the house. Though we’d had no trouble, not even a whisper of it, since we’d left the states, I felt a shivering sense of unease, like a ghost was headed towards me. Without a word, Arthur stepped in front of me, pushing me back towards the door. His body was tense, ready for trouble.  
As the figure drew closer, he relaxed, and when I stepped from behind him I saw he had a broad smile on his face. One glance at the figure, and I did too. I hadn’t been too far off in the ghost thing.  
It was Charles.  
There was more whooping and hollering from both of them than I’d thought either of them had ever made before in their lives. Charles jumped off of his horse, and the two men ran to each other, embracing, as Buck and Opal poked their heads out from behind me.  
“Ma, who’s that?”  
“That, Buck,” I said as I felt tears beginning to fall, “is your Uncle Charles, Papa’s best friend. And I know he’s dying to get a look at you.”  
I swept them out of the house beside me, holding their hands as we made our way over. Arthur was crying as hard as I was, and Charles was pretty teary himself. He looked the three of us over, then turned to Arthur.  
“My god, two kids? And another on the way?”  
Arthur chuckled. “Any day now. What about you? You got any little ones running around?”  
“No. I haven’t been as busy as the two of you. But, uh, I have been spending some time with an old friend. John.”  
Arthur turned white as a ghost, looking more than a little unsteady on his feet. It was no secret that, as far as John was concerned, Arthur was dead. That was one of the first things he’d told me as he’d started dealing with his grief over losing the gang, and what I knew he regretted more than anything. He’d pushed his old hat onto John’s head, grabbing his shoulder and telling him he knew he wouldn’t live, but that he needed him to, to be there for Abigail and Jack. He’d cried telling me that, cried like he’d lost his only brother, which, in a way, he had.  
He spoke with his voice shaking.  
“How’s he doing?”  
Charles smiled. “He’s good. He snd Abigail got married, if you can believe it. Live on a ranch with Jack, have a dog and everything. Uncle’s there, too. Even Sadie’s stopped by.”  
“Damn. Never would’ve thought.”   
He stared out into space. for a moment, a wistful little smile on his face. Meanwhile, Buck and Opal were clinging to my skirt, waiting for their introductions. I spoke up.  
“Hey Charles.”  
He smiled wide, pulling me into as big of a hug as he could manage, then leaned back to look at my enormous belly, and the two pairs of eyes staring at him. He squatted down and held out his hand, while I did the honors.  
“Buckley, Opal, this is Charles Smith, an old friend of your pa and me.”  
Buck shook his hand right away, firm and strong like his father, while Opal was more reserved. Eventually, she took his hand in one of hers, then reached out with the other to play with his hair.  
“You got a lots more hair than Pa. It’s real pretty.”  
He laughed. “Thank you. Maybe if you behave, I’ll let you play with it.”  
Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, and we all headed inside to have dinner. Both of the kids were fascinated with Charles, asking him a million questions about where he’d been and how he knew Arthur, the kinds of things they’d gotten up to when they were “young”. Of course, all the stories were sterilized. None of us wanted them to get the idea that being an outlaw was fun, or even a viable career option.   
After they’d been put to bed, the three of us settled comfortably in the living room, both men with a glass of whiskey. I whined about not joining them, but Arthur just slapped my ass playfully and told me I’d be drinking again soon enough.  
“You guys are pretty isolated out here. How do you handle it when your time comes?”  
“Arthur.”   
He looked back and forth between us, trying to see if we were joking. Arthur shrugged.  
“Delivered both the others. Might as well deliver this one.”  
“Seriously?”  
I leaned against Arthur. “Who else would do it? Thought he’d faint with Opal, though. She was a real mess. Hours of hard labor and plenty of blood.”  
“You didn’t see what I saw.” He frowned. “Thought I was gonna lose you.”  
“You took real good care of us, Arthur. Wouldn’t trust nobody else to deliver me.”  
I kissed his cheek warmly, watching the blush that still flushed his cheeks, after all this time. He thought he was the luckiest man on earth, but I figured I was luckier. If that bank job hadn’t gone wrong, if he and the others hadn’t ended up shipwrecked all those years ago, he’d have run away with Mary, and god only knows where I’d have ended up. But he never showed up for her, and instead of waiting for him, loving him like she should have, she believed the worst in him, like she always had. She ended it, and because of that, I had a beautiful family, a nice home out in the woods, and a husband I loved more than my own damn life, and who loved me just as fierce.  
Life was goddam perfect.


End file.
